SSS-Class Revival Hunter-Chapter 185: The Rookie Actress (3)

“Mhm.”

The actors pressed their lips so hard that their lower lips touched their philtrums, not really buying what I was telling them. Well, I guessed their reactions made sense. I had seen the original Cavefire plays myself, but they hadn’t.

That happened nine hundred years ago.

Maybe a thousand years ago if I rounded up the number. There was no way for today’s Terras to know what Cavefire plays used to be like. In this day and age, only I was confident of how old traditions had been carried out.

“Guys, do you know that you and the rest of Terras have a dormant ability to feel sorrow at the mere sight of fire? Your sensibility is quite awesome. I believe you can awaken that sense again. Dialogues will just get in your way. You’re not bad at acting because you suck, you’re bad because you think of a Cavefire play as someone else’s story!”

I took turns looking at each Terra. One had just one eye, another just one arm, and the last one just one ear. They all had one thing in common: they had lost something.

“All of you carry shining jewels in your hearts, but they’re buried deep down. When a jewel and a stone stay buried in the sand, they aren’t any different from each other. I’m going to take all the sand from your hands and help you fall in love with acting for real.”

“Y-You say cringe things without even blinking.”

“Because I mean them.” I nodded and channeled my aura in my hand, engraving the number seven on the theater’s wall. “For an entire week, I’ll teach you how to use your aura without sleeping a wink.”

The first class began that night.

This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.

***

I gestured to the actors on stage. “Make sure you sit as comfortably as possible. It’s okay to just stretch out your feet. Great. Do anyone’s shoulders feel stiff? If anyone is feeling unwell, please tell me. I’ll give you a massage to help you. Everyone is fine? Okay. Let’s begin.

“People often say ambiguous stuff, something like aura is strictly related to your mental state. ‘Manifest your will,’ ‘Awaken your mind...' They say all sorts of stuff that are hard to understand. Try manifesting your will and unleash your aura.”

“Uh...”

Despite their slight confusion, the actors unleashed their aura. Lacking any sense of form or direction, their aura moved like limp mirages. Compared to Uburka, the greatest warrior of all time, it was safe to say that the actors were not gifted at all when it came to aura mastery. They were clearly embarrassed.

“It’s not easy, is it?”

“U-um, it sometimes works well...”

“Yeah, we all have those days. When you feel good, you can control your emotions freely, paving a highway for your aura. But that’s not enough.”

“If that’s not enough...”

“From now on, you have to be able to draw out your aura whenever you want.”

“Ugor.”

The actors laughed awkwardly. Although they would have loved for that to be possible, resignation took over them and rooted in their smiles.

I smiled back. “You know what, let’s not use the word ‘will’ here. Aura does move according to will, but you don’t unleash your aura using your will.”

“Hmm?”

“Aura is activated by memory, not will.”

That was the conclusion I came to and the truth I had learned in the Heavenly Demon Chronicle, Teacher’s world.

“You'd catch clouds faster than follow some ambiguous advice like cultivating a strong willpower. You need to learn the best way to recall your memories.”

“Recall our memories...”

“Yes, and do it as vividly as possible. Imagine a sea,” I told the Terras.

The actors closed their eyes.

“Hmm.”

“Are you imagining it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Let me guess. You thought of a wide-spread horizon in pretty blue. Just like a picture drawn on paper, right?”

The actors nodded in unison.

I grinned. “That is the most basic memory you could have conjured. Such a mnemonic method must be avoided when using aura.”

“Uger?”

“What you thought of right now isn't sea. It’s the word ‘sea.’ With such low-quality memories, your aura will never fully bloom.” I clapped. “Now, stand up please!”

The actors stood up awkwardly.

“Imagine stepping on a sandy beach this time. The water reaches all the way to your ankles. Swoosh. The sea flows between your toes and swallows you to the ankles before the waves get called back. What is the color of the sea? Is it blue?”

“No, it’s transparent.”

“What about the water between your toes? Is it hot?”

“It’s cool.”

“What is the water like? Is it clean?”

“No, it’s slightly murky because of the sand.”

“Yes, the waves make contact with the sand, sweeping it away. Good. Imagine getting sand stuck between your toes. There’s sand on your ankles too.”

“Mhm.”

“I don’t really like that feeling. It’s prickly. The sand is covered in saltwater, so it’s a bit sticky.”

“You’re right.”

“You went into the sea, and your calves are soaked. The saltiness is icky. What are you going to do?” I asked.

“I’ll go find a well and wash my feet.”

“I came all the way to the sea anyway, so I might as well go for a swim.”

“I’ll look around for any clams.”

Okay.

“That’s a much stronger memory,” I said. “Seniors, when you try to think of something from now on, never start from the word itself. Think of textures, like dipping your feet in the sea. Then your memories will take care of the rest.”

I looked at the one-eyed Terra. “What did you think of when you first thought of the sea? It was just plain blue, yes? Like a simple drawing on paper.”

“Ugor.”

“But what did it look like after you sunk your feet into it? It was actually transparent, right?”

“Right.”

I grinned. “Not only is it transparent, but you can also think of its icky texture. You even thought about what you would do next and how you would act. That’s exactly it.”

Thinking of the most specific texture, like the feel of sand grains stuck in the toes, was the proper way to recall memories. Once a person could do this easily, their aura would naturally become fiercer.

“If you have the memories of almost being burned to death...”

Whoosh.

Fire ignited in my hand.

“Then it would be possible to create an inferno with your aura. Memories of being on the verge of death forcibly root themselves into one’s mind. There are probably people who are born with the talent to be actors. They can spontaneously vent their sadness and act like they’re really in the middle of a battlefield. You guys would be jealous of them. Would you like to know the secret of how those people got their talent?”

I made the blooming fire on my palm bigger.

“They have memories.”

Their trauma, to be exact.

“How can an actor properly act out being in the middle of hell? Simple: they’ve been through it. It has always been like that. The shadow of memories cling onto them, and it’s impossible to shake them off no matter what the actor does.”

The same was true for Uburka. He suffered from severe albinism. Sunlight was a blessing to others, but it was like an opponent’s sword to Uburka. Walking under the sun itself was a matter of defeating his enemy. By having the sun as his enemy, he naturally learned how to envelop himself with aura.

“Wild Fire Sword Dance, which we will be performing next week, is a play in which Kekerukker is disappointed and angry at the Fire Emperor. You aren’t Kekerukker nor the Fire Emperor, but have you never been disappointed in someone?”

I looked at the actors one by one. One eye. One arm. One ear. They were all broken in one way or another.

“Have you never disappointed anyone?”

They remained silent. I put out the fire in my hand.

“I highly doubt so. We’ve all been assholes at some point in our lives. Any of you can become Kekerukker. The Fire Emperor... Ah, that bastard is a bit difficult. His whole existence is quite a challenge. I’ll take on the role of the Fire Emperor in the next performance.”

No matter how much special tutoring I gave them, time was of the essence. I was the only one who could accurately portray Yoo Soo-Ha. The three remaining actors looked up at me.

“Then, who will... take on the role of Kekerukker?”

“I’ll give it to the person who makes the most progress this week,” I replied. “The person who was or has been most disappointed by others will play the lead role.”

The actors were rendered speechless.

***

The one-eyed actor’s name was Ilric.

“My dad used to gamble. People told me he had been like that since I was a baby. When he was young, he worked at a smithy until he became the boss, but he learned to gamble while hanging out with a colleague. It turned out my dad was also talented at it.”

In some cases, people with talent were more miserable than those without it. One of these cases was gambling.

“There were times he won a mountain of gold coins in a day. Whenever that happened, he would buy a villa and let me live there. He would also get me an expensive tutor and a housekeeper. I'd eat and do whatever I wanted.”

“How long did the money last?”

“Three days to two years, but it was usually two months,” Ilric muttered. “If he won a lot of money, he'd start a business with it. He also ran a lodging business for gamblers and lent money to the good ones. There were times when things went well, but when they didn’t...”

Business always had ups and downs. If going with the flow during good times was a gift, being patient during bad moments was an ability. Ilric’s father simply lacked the ability to endure.

“He always tried to make up for the loss through gambling. He set the goal of daily sales to three gold coins. It was good if he could hit the goal, but he gambled if he couldn’t. He was always like that. According to my dad, that was also his business and an inevitable way of keeping it running.”

Ilric sighed.

“I don’t have a home. There is no place I have stayed long enough to call home, just villas and inns. We lived in the city with the biggest gambling scene. When my dad’s business failed, we moved to a city that had a smaller gambling scene, and so on..."

He buried his head in his hands.

“One day, a woman came to the inn. My sleeping schedule was a mess, so I was sleeping well past noon. After some time, the woman pounded on my door. With a frown, I eventually opened the door for her.”

Are you Mr. Ilric?

“I could tell something was going on. Maybe she worked for the inn, but I just thought my dad was in deep shit again. People who lent my dad money sometimes came by.”

Is your father here?

No.

“I just woke up, so I looked terrible. My face couldn’t have looked worse. I held the doorknob of the inn room, hinting that I wasn't above closing the door at any time.”

Who are you?

“The woman didn’t answer my question. After a few moments of hesitation, she left the inn. I closed the door, finding the encounter strange. In the evening, I told my dad about the woman who came that day. That was when I learned she was my mother. She left home when I was three years old, so I didn’t recognize her.”

Though most of Ilric’s face was covered by his hand, one of his furrowed eyebrows peeked through his fingers.

“I don’t care about everything else, but I can’t help thinking about the expression I made back then. I was irritated, and I didn’t hide it from the woman. I didn't even let go of the doorknob. I don’t like that. I don’t know why I acted that way.”

Ilric looked down at the floor with his one eye.

“But why did my mother call me Mr. Ilric? Why mister? I can’t figure it out. I heard that my dad and my mom had come up with my name together, so why Mr. Ilric? I wish I knew. Fuck,” he muttered.

The one-eyed actor left, and the one-armed actor came in next. The white tattoos on his torso stopped at his right shoulder, where his arm had been cleanly cut off. His name was Yumar.

“I was a drug dealer.”